A Matter of Time
by Sorrel
Summary: Late nights in front of the computer, and how to say it without, y'know, saying it. McKaySheppard slash. Happyfic.


**A Matter of Time.

* * *

**

Rodney had a picture of Dali's clock as the background on his laptop, the one he kept in his quarters, not the one he carried around with him or the one he used in the lab. This was Rodney's personal laptop, the one he brought at his one personal item, and it wasn't attached to the Atlantis network. John had found that out the hard way, when he'd had trouble sleeping and had gotten up to work on the calculations for the experiment Zelenka was running on the grounded puddlejumper, and had found out that he couldn't actually get to the file where he'd saved his work. At first, John had thought that Rodney was just excessively paranoid about people hacking into his personal files, but the computer itself wasn't password protected, and Rodney was obsessive enough that he'd put an electronic lock on the coffee machine in his office, if he thought he could get away with it.

So it wasn't paranoia, and it wasn't a temporary glitch, because John checked that too. It just wasn't wired into the main system at all, and never had been. John couldn't understand it- this was _Rodney,_ who went into withdrawal if you took his datapad away from him long enough for him to inhale his dinner and half of John's. How could he possibly stand to have a computer in his room that wasn't wired up to the system that Rodney himself had set up?

He went back and checked it again, a few nights later, when his insomnia got the better of him again. He couldn't sleep all that well when he slept with Rodney. Nothing to do with the man himself, or some bullshit fear of commitment. John loved the feeling of Rodney's body pressed up against his back during the night, but he'd been sleeping alone for a long time, and he hadn't yet been able to train himself out of waking up every time Rodney shifted or made some sound in his sleep.

So the next time he found himself staring at the ceiling, he got himself out from under Rodney's arm, slung comfortably around his waist, and settled down in the chair at Rodney's desk. The laptop gave a little whirring noise when he powered it up, and up popped the wallpaper image- Dali's clock, melting into nothing against the black background.

It meant something, he knew it did. But since he couldn't figure out what, exactly, it meant, he gave up sitting there and pondering and went looking through the files.

It wasn't snooping, he told himself. Well, alright, it was definitely snooping, but if Rodney minded him looking through, he wouldn't have let John spend the night in his room without password-protecting the laptop, so it wasn't that big of a deal.

There wasn't a lot on there. There were a few computer games, some of the old-fashioned standards and a few space invader types, which John figured was yet another sign of Rodney's twisted sense of humor. All of the high scores were very high indeed, except for FreeCell, which were so low as to be laughable. John played a couple of rounds of pinball with the sound turned off to keep from waking Rodney up, though he could probably blast the speakers at full volume and Rodney wouldn't stir, he slept that deep. Lucky bastard.

Eventually he gave up on the games and went through some of the other files. There were a few half-finished schematics saved to the desktop, all of them covered in notes. Some were for weapons, and a couple were for modifications like extending puddlejumper shield power and using the transporter system for citywide searches. There were a bunch of notes in Rodney's shorthand, which John still hadn't figured out how to decipher, so after staring admiringly at a diagram of something that looked a lot like a handheld drone launcher, he moved on.

The only other things on there were a bunch of mathematical proofs. Nothing related to any one of the number of projects Rodney had going, as far as John could tell. They seemed to be just for fun, which was more than a little mind-boggling. The presence of the games had thrown him a little, but this, here, was concrete evidence that Rodney did, in fact, know how to relax. Which was pretty much news to him.

Slightly unsettled, he closed all the files and just stared at the picture. It started to get even more blurry after a few minutes, as John's exhaustion started to win out over his restlessness and his eyes started unfocusing, but this somehow just made it more interesting.

"Normally I'd let you stay here and zone out," Rodney said from behind him, sounding perfectly awake, "but you're swaying in your chair, and having you here isn't worth the sleep you're losing."

John turned to face him and found him sitting up, the sheet spilling over his lap. He looked alert in only the way Rodney could, right after waking up. Rodney always went from dead to the world to wide-awake in less than ten seconds, though he'd always demand coffee to get him started anyway.

"I'm good," John said. "Really."

Rodney's face softened, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Go back to your room and get some sleep, John," he said gently. "We've got a mission tomorrow, remember?"

John shook his head stubbornly. Yeah, he did remember, but he'd gone to bed with Rodney and he was damn well going to wake up with him. It's what you _did_ in a relationship, at least a relationship that means something, and this did. John wasn't going to cut and run now, just because he was a little tired.

"Seriously, Rodney, I'm okay. I was just a little wired tonight, I guess."

"No, you can't sleep in here and you know it," Rodney said. John was surprised- he hadn't known that Rodney had realized it- but he didn't let it show on his face. Instead he held his blank expression, just looking at Rodney until Rodney sighed and shook his head and scooted over a few inches.

"Get over here," he said, and John went, slid under the sheets and settled in next to him. Rodney looped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, pressing an absent-minded kiss to his temple.

"You don't have to prove anything to me, you know," Rodney said. "I'm not gonna let you get killed on a mission because you were so busy trying to make a point that you didn't get enough sleep."

John pressed himself against Rodney's side, enjoying the heat coming off his body. It was cold in the room. "I'm not trying to prove something," he said. "I want to be here." His shrug bumped awkwardly into Rodney's ribs. "I'm just not used to someone else being here, too."

Rodney didn't say anything more after that, just kissed him fast and sweet and leaned a head against his shoulder.

"What's the clock for?" John asked, a minute later. He wasn't sure Rodney was going to answer; he thought he might not still be awake.

But Rodney did answer, his voice low and a little rough with sleep. "There's never enough time, here in Atlantis," he said. "It's there to remind me that I don't have to save the world all the time. That's where I work when I can't turn my brain off enough to go to sleep. It's a good reminder."

"I didn't know you had trouble sleeping," John said.

"Doesn't everyone?" Rodney said. Unspoken, _Especially here._

"I've never seen you-" He stopped, thought about what he was saying. "You sleep better when I'm here, don't you."

"You make it sound so terribly romantic. It's just a matter of body heat," Rodney said, but John could feel a smile on Rodney's mouth, pressed against the side of his neck, and a second later, Rodney added, "Yes. I sleep better when you're here."

"But you told me to go back to my room," John said. This kind of confusion hurt his brain at the best of times, and he felt like he might be what Elizabeth called "sleep-addled."

"And I still think you should," Rodney said. "You need the sleep more than I do."

That was debatable, John thought, considering Rodney and his endless cups of coffee, and the way he never seemed to leave the labs till after one unless John made him. "I want to be here," he said. It was a poor substitute for what he wanted to say, but those three words always eluded him, and Rodney seemed to understand anyway.

"Then shut up and go to sleep," Rodney said, and kissed the side of his neck before retrieving his arm and repositioning them, rolling onto their sides and pressing up against his back. John pressed back, tugged on the pillow to get a little more than the tiny corner Rodney had left him, and settled down with Rodney's heat radiating against his body and Rodney's breath fluttering against the nape of his neck.

John thought about what Rodney had revealed tonight. _I sleep better when you're here,_ Rodney had said, but that wasn't all. Maybe Rodney wasn't able to say the words either, but it didn't matter, because John understood him anyway.

John fell asleep with Rodney's arms around him, and when he woke up Rodney was still there, muttering evil things about the shrilling alarm. John rolled over and looked at him, his hair sticking up in all directions and his face slack with sleep, and he felt a surge of affection so strong he almost couldn't breathe.

He understood what Rodney meant when he said they never had enough time, but this was worth it. They'd make time for this- they would _always_ make time for this. And maybe tomorrow, when he woke up in Rodney's arms again, he'd be able to say the words that he could already feel, warm and sweet in his chest.

He knew it was just a matter of time.


End file.
